


Valyria

by Prisioux



Series: AU Ressurection-Daenerys [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Daenerys Resurrection Week, F/M, drw day 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:13:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23597404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prisioux/pseuds/Prisioux
Summary: Daenerys and Jon face off their last obstacles.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: AU Ressurection-Daenerys [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691692
Comments: 31
Kudos: 78





	Valyria

**Author's Note:**

> My answer to the prompt : Resurrection and restoring Valyria/ Meereen/ Essos (bonus points if her betrayers want her help)

A whole year had passed since the day Jon- _ Aegon _ \- returned to her.

Daenerys could say she was finally happy. Her family was safe. All the shackles had been broken; the curse of Valyria, lifted.

Their lands were beautiful, inviting, fertile. Word was spreading that anyone brave enough to make the journey would find a warm welcome. Men, women, children, all free and declared equal by the Queen´s Law, Daenerys dreams finally came true.

Much to Aegon´s consternation, most of the ships came from Westeros. Not only that but the Northmen counted for a good fourth of the refugees, their once hardened, distrustful faces now looking at Daenerys with pleading eyes and humble expressions.

“We came because we are hungry, Your Grace.” the first Captain coming from White Harbour said when received at the Palace Daenerys built in the way of Old Valyria, with the help of Red Priestesses from Volantis and Drogon´s fire. 

Daenerys understood hunger, she understood desperation, but she still remembered the northern and their proud ways, their disgust of foreigners and staunch support of the Starks.

“ My husband told me about your traditions. Hunger has never bothered the men from the North. You would gladly tell your families you would go hunting,. Only to die in the snows so they could have more food. What has changed?”

“What changed, Your Grace, is that even if we would die in the snow, there would not be enough to feed our sons and daughters.”

She could be many things, but cruel was not one of them.

Daenerys would not allow children to suffer for the mistakes of their parents, of their rulers. 

“You are welcome to stay.”

Daenerys made sure that Aegon dealt with the Northmen from that day forward. Not that she distrusted the refugees, but she simply had no desire or time to make their acquaintances- the memory of how Missandei had been treated still fresh in her mind.

“Let them know they are not to make faces, say harsh words or deny assistance to anybody on account of their difference. Everyone here is equal and should be granted a second chance. If a crime is committed, then they can come to us and Justice will be served.”

While Aegon´s countrymen were not the friendliest of peoples, they knew how to obey commands. They kept mostly to themselves, even requesting to be allowed to settle a huge area together as a people, but this Daenerys found dangerous: they could have as much land as they wanted, as far they shared with others. They could meet, wed, and have children with their own if that is what their hearts told them to do, but they would not be allowed to self segregate in New Valyria.

The lesson was learned and the request, never again made.

***

One day, five ships coming from Westeros arrived, transporting not poor refugees seeking new beginnings, but nobles with very different aspirations.

“Yara, old friend- how can I be of any assistance?”

The Queen of the Iron Islands had not aged a day and was clearly delighted in seeing that Daenerys too, looked the same- if not more beautiful: 

“ Your Grace, is a great pleasure to see you in good health. I came on the account of our past alliance, hoping we could renew the bonds of friendship that were forged in Meereen.”

Before Daenerys could offer a reply, Aegon opened the door that connected their shared study to the great hall through a small corridor, and surprised by the familiar face who was now staring at him with cold eyes, politely addressed the visitor: 

“ Queen Yara, I suppose your arrival means the Northern kingdom has finally fallen. “

“So the rumours were true.” Yara's facial expression went from angry coldness to slight amusement. “ You were never a wolf, but a dragon. “

“Aye, this is true- although it took me years.” Aegon or Jon, the name did not matter to him anymore. What mattered was the company he kept.

Eventually, surrounded by dragons, he became one.

“ Winterfell- has it fallen to the Iron Men a second time?" Aegon asked again, being as direct as possible-

Yara nodded: 

“If it makes any difference, it was not a bloody affair. We just took the opportunity to strike a final blow. The false Queen Sansa´s visit to King's Landing turned into an indefinite stay. Our spies North informed us the discontentment among the smallfolk and the nobles was palpable and when they started fleeing, we knew time had come. We sailed to White Harbour from Sunspear with but a fraction of our Armada. Lady Manderley offered little resistance. We brought enough grains to feed their dwindling population. If we were not welcomed with open arms, we also encountered no opposition.”

Aegon took some seconds to absorb the information. 

The North had been conquered- and the Northmen did not fight back. They did not have it in them anymore. 

A civil war. The Bolton´s rule. An invasion of Ice Demons- The North survived it all, but it did not survive the reign of Sansa Stark.

Aegon could not take it any longer. 

“ I am sorry, but---” 

With the image of his silly cousin, in her silly she-wolf costume, hiding from her own subjects down south, in the somber court of the Raven King, Aegon decided not to fight it anymore- and burst into laughter.

***

“Bran- Brandon! They just killed Arya!” 

Sansa´s anger was a sight to behold. Tyrion, unused as he was with such an emotional reaction after spending the last years working for---whatever it was that Brandon Stark was--- rushed to be by her side, offering what little comfort he could.

But he had little arms...and Sansa was a big, _big_ girl.

She just shoved Tyrion aside as if he was a doll. and trotted her way to her brother. 

“ Brandon, for the love of our Lady Mother, please, do _something!_ ”

If someone in that room knew anything about Brandon Stark was that, his endless Powers aside, the boy was consistent in his approach to problem-solving: he did nothing, helped with nothing, and expected nothing.

“She is dead. It was painless and fast. She was not sad to go, Sansa.” The king then turned to his Hand, who had quietly recomposed himself from the violent physical assault, and calmy instructed his Hand: “ We should call our soldiers, organize the release of the sick and wounded into the hands of the septs nearby, heavily guard the grains storage and close the city. We are in lockdown.”

At that moment, Sansa, incensed as she was, lost all the fear she had for her brother: 

“ _That is it?_ That is all you will do after your sister is murdered? You will just close the gates of King's Landing, with us inside? “

What happened next, not even Brandon could have possibly foreseen: Sansa, the tamed wolf of the North, forgot about the lady's armor for a second and, with all her strength, raised her right hand, slapping her brother in the face so hard that the boy fell from his chair and onto to the floor.

True to form, Brandon Stark reacted to the attack by simply asking Ser Podrick to assist him back to his chair and by, once again, addressing His Lord Hand: “ My lord Tyrion, please see that my sister is fined for her improper use of Raven's Landing former name. Due to her high status, the fine must be all the jewels, dresses and knickknacks she brought North with her. Leave her only with the necessary for her survival for the next months. We are at war.”

Sansa´s face was now as red as her hair, her voice loud and vicious :

“You cannot do this to me! I AM QUEEN! I am leaving the North tomorrow!”

Brandon did not even reply with words; he lamely waved his hands dismissively in Sansa´s direction and, with almost a whisper, instructed Ser Podrick to take him to the godswood.

***

Tyrion Lannister waited in his chambers. He had given orders to be informed as soon as the King had returned from his sacred ventures, but since the boy stayed longer than anticipated, Tyrion ended up falling asleep on his desk, goblet still in hands, a to be finished letter as his pillow.

When he woke up, mouth foul of the leftover wine, Tyrion found himself in the company of GrandMaester Tarly : 

“ What are you doing here?”

“Gilly has left me.” The fat man said without preamble. “ not that I blame her- I think we should _all_ leave.”

Privately, Tyrion agreed with Tarly´s assessment. They should all leave at once, as far away as possible from the Starks. 

“The Stark are cursed- all of them.” Tyrion murmured half in a daze. 

He must have said louder than he intended to because Tarly heartily agreed. 

“ Aye, they are. But you were the one to convince us that "Brandon has the best story, so he should be King". You said he would unite us.”

“Well, as you can see, I drink and I  _ don´t _ know things.” Tyrion knew his part in this mess all too well- but he would be damned if he allowed a coward like Tarly to forget _his_. 

“And yet, ignorant as I am, I convinced all the Lords to vote the way I saw best. You, intelligent as you think yourself to be, failed to convince them your idea had any merit. Out of the both of us, you are the biggest failure.”

Tyrion's life had become one of sour disappointment and bitter reckonings. Still, some things would never change: he was still an hedonist indulging in his vices, the proverbial God of tits and wine.

Let it be the red sour he just drank, or the prostitute that had left a couple of hours before, Tyrion Lannister, the son of the late Tywin Lannister, liked to have fun.

Drinking and whoring aside, the most rewarding activity in Tyrion´s estimation was placing people in their right places.

He loved nothing more than to teach the most valuable lessons, and, in doing so, in destroying dreams and reputations with his vicious words.

Now that Samwell Tarly had shown himself to be such a vulnerable prey, Tyrion Lannister would not hesitate and pass the opportunity: “I remember it well- that day at the Dragonpit- I remember that  _ they laughed at you _ . All of them- even a good old softie like Lord Tully. They all laughed at your stupid idea, Tarly. Nobody likes you- not even your wife likes you. begone!“

Oh, how happy Tyrion was to see those fat tears coming out those fat eyes!

As the door closed once Tarly left the room, hands shaking, face covered in swot, Tyrion laughed- and somehow, he knew, it would be the last time.

***

Sansa came to despise her brother, whom she had not seen in person since that awful day Arya was brought to them in pieces, four moons previously.

She had been granted permission to remain in the quarters that had been assigned to her since her arrival. Sansa thanked her brother for the small mercy through a note she sent him that same night, but she doubted the 3 Eyed Raven had use for such pleasantries.

Her retinue had been dismissed but for two handmaidens and three guards. Much to her astonishment, Sansa could see the servants did not consider themselves lucky for being allowed to stay by her side.

Quite the contrary, actually.

“They all died the first time; they came with her and all died. Even that direwolf of hers.” Sansa heard one handmaiden speaking in hushed tones once a day. She had woken up a bit early- they were still preparing her tray on the antechamber.

“She sided with them, I heard. This is her punishment. And our punishment is staying with her. She stole our King.”

_ King?  _ Sansa asked herself in confusion. _Do they_ _ prefer Brandon? _

“King, Warden, Lord Commander, no matter the title, _he_ was the last of the Starks.”

***

Tyrion took to visit her every night.

Sansa always received him with a smile, always asked how had been his day, never commented on his smell of wine and sex...she was always gracious, always available, always understanding.

“How is my brother, the King? Has he visited the godswood lately?” she asked Tyrion the time the half-man brought her a tray of lemon cakes- a kind, thoughtful gesture, she had to admit.

“No, not for the past six days. He just stares at the flames. I asked him what he wanted to accomplish with that and he said he thought fire would help in locating the dragon.”

Sansa had to shake her head in annoyance. 

“ We already know where the dragon is, Tyrion. Why waste time when we could be preparing?”

“He considers this the preparation. Of course, we know the dragon is somewhere between Volantis and Old Valyria. What your brother means is that he wanted to see if the dragon is moving.”

“Ah.” 

***   
Through Tyrion, Sansa keept well apprised of the situation, watching on the sidelines as the pieces on the board fell one by one.

At first, there was hope. The Lords of the Reach declared for Brandon, once again, and as a gesture of goodwill, they offered Lord Hightower´s oldest available granddaughter to Lord Bronn of Highgarden.

The fool accepted, eager to run away from the Raven´s court.

Bronn was murdered by his guards as he prepared to cross the border- his feet never touching The Reach, a land he had no right to, no claim over and that had never accepted him.

Then it came news that Lord Robert Arryn was betrothed to the same Hightower girl that had served as bait for Bronn. When questioned per letter to explain himself, Lord Robert tersely replied: “I trust it is obvious enough.”

When Tyrion complained that Lord Gendry had yet to reply to their summons, Sansa suggested they reminded him of what had happened to Arya. “ There might still be some affection there. We should use it.”

“Lord Gendry has been wed to Lady Calista Cafferen for over two years; she is with child again.” 

Sansa believed the union to be one out of duty, not love, so it stood to reason that Gendry would be as willing as she was to avenge Arya´s death.” Gendry is a Great Lord. He could not have waited any longer. Marriages have little to do with love- we know this better than anyone, Tyrion.”

***

Lord Gendry never replied.

***

On the day that marked the seventh ( or was it the eighth?) month after their self imposed siege, Tyrion woke up from his usual alcoholic stupor only to find air of small, mean, blue eyes staring at him.

“By the Seven, Your Grace!” Tyrion exclaimed as he frantically searched for his breeches to hide his nakedness from the King. 

“First Tarly, now this…”Tyrion murmured under Brando´s watchful, silent eyes.

When Tyrion finally managed to put his shirt on, Brandon spoke. “ She is coming.”

There was no need for Brandon to clarify who she was speaking about. 

They had been expecting this day for months:

“ Have you seen through the weirwood? Or were your ravens- did they scout the oceans for you? From which direction she comes?”

Brandon just shook his head, pointing at the window, where the shadow of two pair of large, dark wings were getting nearer and nearer. 

***

“I just thought you would want to know.” the boy King said for nobody to hear, for Tyrion had already fled the room.

***

Tyrion had gathered as much gold as he possibly could get his hands on from the treasury and was praying to all the Gods, Old and New, for a chance at escaping before the Dragon Queen arrived with enough Fire and Blood as to drown them all.

He was actually using the escape arrangements his sister had made so many years ago. A series of secret passages would lead him to a hidden dock underneath the castle. 

Ostensively prepared for the King in case evacuation was necessary, Tyrion had decided to follow his instincts and just left the damn bird boy behind to deal with whatever strange destiny awaited him before the broken thing could even finish his last sentence.

Coward as this last act could be considered, Tyrion was not a complete monster: there was someone in that castle still worth saving.

***

Sansa Stark opened the door herself since she had been left alone in her chambers for the great part of the morning. It was the last of a series of small indignities she had been forced to experience in the last week, probably fruit of Brandon´s dispassionate incompetence.

She found a distressed, disheveled Tyrion carrying a red leather bag that was as big- or as small- as the man himself.

“ We have no time to lose- She is here. We must escape.”

Sansa nodded and promptly started placing her first necessities- her ivory comb, her signet ring- inside a grey velvet pouch. 

“Hurry up….”

“Yes, yes…”

The halfman led her through an intricate series of passages and soon they arrived at their destination. 

Sansa realized she knew half the men manning the ship. They were of the North. Like her.

She saw when the dragon flew over the Red Keep. She closed her eyes- she did not want to listen to the destruction that certainly would follow.

“ Are we going North? To White Harbour?”

Tyrion replied in the negative. Sansa pressed for details. Why not The North? She was Queen- she could offer him a pardon, she said. She had no need for a Hand of the Queen, but she needed a general. Tyrion had previous experience, and was smart- they could work together, to get back what should have been hers.

The Seven Kingdoms.

“You don´t understand,” Tyrion said, eyes cast down. “ Winterfell has fallen. The Northern Houses met a week ago and they swore fealty for the King in the North- Aegon of the House Targaryen. I could not tell you...I did not have the heart to...But we could go somewhere...start over….toget---”

Sansa could not listen any longer. She saw red. She had lost everything to the bastard. Exactly like her Lady Mother had feared.

And the little monster was looking at her...smiling even? Did he want to be with her? That awful monkey?

Sansa´s mind rushed to that day she could have ended it all. She could have pushed Joffrey...but Sandor was there to stop her.

But Sandor was not there anymore

So Sansa did what she had never done: she killed a man...a halfman to be more exact.

***

“I have been waiting for you.”

Daenerys looked around. There were no guards, no menservants, no Hand of the King.

The only one there besides Daenerys was Bran, sitting on his chair, cold, blue eyes staring at her. 

“Queen Yara found your sister near Dragonstone. She was executed as the traitor she was. It was an easy decision, I suppose. But you…” Daenerys paused. She knew Brandon Stark, the one who had been raised side by side with Jon at Winterfell, had died in that cave beyond the wall. 

Before her was an ancient, powerful, magical being, whose absolute neutrality was the greatest danger mankind ever faced.

The cold, the indifference, the apathy.

***

Brandon remained silent. Daenerys asked a couple of questions ( Had he seen the destruction she caused in King's Landing? Why had he not helped during the war for the dawn? ) but the young man refused to speak, his eyes going from blue to blank to blue again.

Daenerys stopped. She would not ask him a third question, she would not lose her time.

Then, Aegon arrived- and Brandon spoke:

“Jon, go ahead- do your Duty.”

and these were Brandon Stark´s last words.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> that is it boys and girls, thank you for stopping by and take care :)


End file.
